The Silence
by Scatterheart
Summary: : Legolas awakens in Rohan to overhear a plot for his murder. And now he must capture the traitor… but will he end up falling in love with her instead? Legolas/Eowyn. WIP! Last updated Jan 6.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: No money is made off of this story. Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. A little bit belongs to Peter Jackson. A tiny smidge belongs to Miranda Otto and Orlando Bloom. But most belongs to Tolkien!  
  
Summary: Sort of Alternate Universe. Legolas awakens in Rohan to overhear a plot for his murder. And now he must capture the traitor. but will he end up falling in love with her instead? Legolas/Eowyn. I know, I know.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Note: As of January 14, 2003. I revised a lot of this story so if you had read the first two chapters before, I suggest you read them again. Or not. It's up to you, really. This story goes off of the movie. Okay, so anyway, it starts when our travelers land in Rohan. and it then totally deviates from the plot of the Two Towers. Gandalf is not there for plot reasons. And I know Legolas's eyes are light blue but since Orlando Bloom doesn't wear his contacts for half of the movie, I've settled on "dark" eyes to give him a more brooding look. On with the story!  
  
Another Note: I am so sad! Fanfiction.net is having problems uploading my web pages, so now I have to upload Word documents. and all my italics are gone! Darn.  
  
A long time ago in a kingdom far, far away.  
  
The Silence By: Scatterheart  
  
One  
  
The nights descended upon Rohan like thick curtains of raven velvet that smothered the kingdom into deathly silence. With the setting of the sun, the buildings turned to stone and the people into mute statues. It was as if they carried a silence that spoke of the years of hidden brutality and sadness that befell upon them, and it was as if the silence was one that a visit from an old wizard could not so immediately heal.  
  
Legolas awoke to the cold and horrid silence with a vast, empty feeling in his chest. Rohan, he thought, and did not open his eyes. He knew there would be nothing to see except the blackness inside the castle walls, and the blackness would echo the silence, and the silence taunted at his most private thoughts and threatened to bring them out.  
  
He turned over on the hard wooden cot and tried to abandon himself to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be an important day. Tomorrow they would be departing for Helm's Deep, and he could not afford to be fatigued when danger would be nipping at his heels, and at the heels of hundreds of men and women and children.  
  
Tomorrow... tomorrow he would be gone from this wretched place.  
  
From the cot to his left, Gimli snorted loudly and defiantly, sounding immersed in an exciting dream of battle. He was not in the cold silence, Legolas thought. He was out in the raging battlefield, strong and handsome and triumphant, living the life of a hero that every man, dwarf, and elf wanted to live.  
  
On the far left of the room Aragorn exhaled warily at Gimli's sounds, but did not otherwise stir. He too sounded lost in a dream, and Legolas knew it was not one he wanted to wake from. Aragorn was swimming in his visions of Arwen, and it was her unbreakable promise that kept him stoic and kept him alive. Just as Gimli had his battles, Aragorn had his eternal companion. And so both of them were deep in love, and it was that love that almost made them immortal.  
  
Legolas was surrounded by a silence that carried nothing and held no promises. Only memories of a woodland that was now deserted and gone, and the last remnants of an ancient people that was proud and beautiful and dying.  
  
A sickening dread bubbled up inside his stomach and made him want to curl together in agony. He didn't want to stay here anymore, not in this silence. He wanted to go back where everything was lush and green and untouched, and he wanted to damn his pride for making him embark on a futile journey that was eating away at his very soul...  
  
"You!"  
  
Legolas was instantly alert at the voice that cut through the silence. His muscles tensed and he readied himself to spring.  
  
"It can't be! What are you doing here?"  
  
The female speaker was on the other side of the thick wooden door, perhaps as far as four rooms away. Her voice was so muffled by the distance that even Legolas's elven ears had a difficult time picking up the words. He knew that Aragorn and Gimli were too deep inside their dreams to be alerted, and that the guards standing in vigil at their posts were too untrained to even hear a sound.  
  
"You are banished from Rohan, you snake! Why are you back? Get out of here before I sound the alarms!"  
  
"My dear, dear Eowyn," a man responded coldly.  
  
Legolas hissed between his teeth. This is Grima Wormtongue's voice, he thought. He had been banished today. So the treacherous man has returned. And Eowyn...  
  
"Eowyn, don't pretend you are so stupidly brave. If you sound the alarms you will soon be martyred to a pathetic country that will be forgotten before your carcass rots. And we don't want that to happen to your beautiful little face, now do we?"  
  
"You bastard!"  
  
"Come, come, love. Let's not be rude. I am not here to threaten you or offer you bad tidings. I am here to... negotiate with you. Peacefully."  
  
"Negotiate, Wormtongue? You? Nothing that comes out of your slimy black mouth is worth negotiating!"  
  
Wormtongue heaved a sigh. "Will you listen to me, my dear Eowyn? I am not as horrible as you think. True, I may support. questionable authority, but at least I manage to stay alive. And you may do the same if you listen to me."  
  
"Then say it once before I cast you out of the kingdom forever, beast."  
  
"I have simply come to say that your tiny band of newfound friends can only bring destruction to this kingdom. They say they are here to save you. Oh, no, Eowyn! Your kingdom can do nothing against the power of Saruman. You will only watch helplessly as your incompetent friends lead you into total oblivion with their pathetic little cause."  
  
"That is untrue! They have sworn to save us from Saruman with their lives!"  
  
"Are you truly this naïve, little girl? They cannot succeed against Saruman! Don't you understand? Against Saruman no one of this earth shall survive! You cannot go against the current, Eowyn. When a current as immense as this one comes, the only hope for survival is to float with the waves. And I know exactly how..."  
  
Wormtongue's voice dimmed into incomprehensible buzzes.  
  
Legolas sat up silently in his cot. He would rouse Aragorn and Gimli, and they would storm into the next room and put a swift end to Wormtongue's miserable life. No, but there are many guards still more loyal to Wormtongue than Theoden. They're standing all through the palace and will outnumber us in the riot that is sure to follow. Legolas clenched his jaw, and with the last shreds of patience, thought, I will wait.  
  
Soon, he heard footsteps approaching the door. The buzzing voices shifted into clarity and murmured briefly to the guards. Then four sets of chain mail boots marched quietly away until their metallic rattles disappeared down the stairs and out of earshot.  
  
They've convinced the guards to leave. Bribes and lingering loyalty to Wormtongue, undoubtedly, Legolas thought grimly.  
  
"You must promise to save my people before I do this, Wormtongue," said the woman, Eowyn. Her cracking voice seemed resigned, broken, tired.  
  
"My lady, I promise," came the chilly response. "I shall be waiting for you tomorrow evening. We will gather together all of the residents. And then we shall speed away to Mordor, where every last woman and child will be saved from Saruman's wrath."  
  
A pause. "And my money?"  
  
"Ah, yes, you pretty little wrench. Here is the key to the safe. And now I must leave. I await you tomorrow! And remember, jab the poisoned needle into their necks and they shall die. End the elf first, as he is the swiftest and hardest to kill. Then kill the fat dwarf. His thick hide will take longer for the poison to penetrate. And finally finish the pathetic man. Ah, darling, why do you look at me so? Do you not wish to kill him?"  
  
"I do not wish to kill any of them, Wormtongue. I am not an evil, heartless beast like you."  
  
"Eowyn, Eowyn, Eowyn. Your stupid lust for the human is useless. You must know by now his heart is bound to an elf by the name of Arwen. An elf, Eowyn. Compared to you, you are simply an ugly old scab off of Aragorn's shoes. Perhaps good for a rutting or two, nothing more. You are lucky that I have the slightest bit of interest in you, or else you shall remain a spinster for the rest of your short life. Understand? Good. Farewell, my pathetic fox. I shall meet you again tomorrow." His hissing footsteps slid away.  
  
Legolas bounded to his feet and made for the door. He stood next to it, flattened against the wall. There would be a poisoned needle in her hand, he calculated cautiously. He needed to capture her and dislodge the needle without waking Aragorn and Gimli; for fear that their cries of alarm would wake the rest of the guards.  
  
The door barely squeaked on its well-oiled hinges as it opened. He saw Eowyn, dressed in a gossamer white nightgown. Her blond hair was flowing free. She held the glistening needle outstretched in her right hand. Furrowing her brow in the murky darkness, she took a barefooted step into the room.  
  
Legolas stepped behind her and caught her around the waist. He struck her right wrist with his, and the needle flew with a jolt out of her fingers and onto a small fur rug. She took a breath to scream; Legolas blocked it with his palm. Momentarily relinquishing a hold on her waist, he reached for the arrow at his belt and poised it at the pulsing vein in her throat.  
  
Eowyn struggled. Legolas scratched the tip of the arrow into her skin, drawing a thin trickle of blood that ended in a tiny crimson stain at her nightgown. She stopped moving. She was panting heavily, a wild look in her pale face. There was something else there, too. A tear on her cheek? Bur it could have been merely an illusion of the weak moonlight through the open window.  
  
Time passed. A minute. Two.  
  
Eowyn had stopped panting, and was now standing as still as the sandstone columns of the Great Hall of Moria. Slowly, cautiously, Legolas uncovered her mouth. He still kept the arrow at her throat, adding enough pressure for it to be painful. Eowyn swallowed, shivering, and the arrow tip wavered slightly to the side... and she ducked away from his weapon, jumped back, and flipped out the open window in a flutter of white silk.  
  
Damn!  
  
Legolas jumped after her, grabbing the bow and the quiver of arrows at his bedside. He slung them over his shoulders as he plummeted two stories through the air. He saw Eowyn picking herself up from the stone ground and sprinting down the steps of the palace. He landed lightly on his feet and made a beeline after her.  
  
Eowyn ran through the village, heading for the gate that surrounded the kingdom. She was unbelievably fast, cutting like a ghostly blur of lightening through the darkness, and Legolas could only barely keep track of her. He saw her reach the gate and claw her way up the wooden railings. Then she gave a leap and disappeared out of sight.  
  
Legolas sprinted to the gate and scaled over it like a nimble spider. His legs burned as he crashed landed in the dirt caked ground on the other side of the village, and he wondered if he broke a bone with the jump. And then he saw Eowyn winding her way down the hill, dodging expertly through the grave mounds, and the soreness left him.  
  
I shall not have this woman escape me, he thought, pursuing her tracks. Never had something run away from him like this. No orc, no dragon, no elf, even. But a woman who had planned on selling her kingdom to Saruman? He did not know why he was so blindingly furious, the fact that she was a traitor intent on his murder, or the fact that she was a mere mortal woman.  
  
Eowyn was reaching the bottom of the hill. She gave a fleeting glance behind her, her crystal eyes flashing from behind her golden hair. And suddenly, like a fluttering moth, she stumbled, flailed her arms, and crashed rolling to the ground.  
  
Legolas could make out the little brown tree root sticking out of the dirt, and realized it was what had tripped her. He dashed down the hill before Eowyn could regain the breath that had been knocked out of her. He towered over her with his bow already strung, a razor sharp arrow held taut in the middle. He lowered the arrow to point directly at her heart.  
  
"Don't," Legolas said, his dark eyes staring down Eowyn's pale ones, "move. Or you shall be dead, Lady Eowyn of Rohan."  
  
Note: And there you have it, the first chapter. Please send reviews! Good ones and bad ones are all welcome; I love to know what people think about my writing. 


	2. Two

Note: See the disclaimer in Chapter One.  
  
Two  
  
Eowyn grimaced as the elf silently bound her bare feet with the last of his rope, and clutched her hands to the dirt under her body to level away some of the pain. She had tripped on an elusive root poking out of the ground, and it had cut into her skin as well as sprained the joint. Perhaps the elf, Legolas, did not notice her injury in the murky light, but most likely he did. He finished the dead knot with an emphatic pull, and lifted his gaze to examine her face.  
  
Eowyn stared levelly back, digging her fingernails into her fist. Her foot was burning with a wrenching pain that shot up to her eyes and pulled at her tears, but she blinked them away and flashed Legolas a bitter smile. "Go ahead, elf. I give you permission to kill me. Kill me right now and flee with your two friends before King Theoden awakes."  
  
"I prefer to leave traitors at the mercy of the buzzards in the sky and the filthy insects that crawl upon the ground."  
  
"You wish to leave me here?"  
  
"My lady," Legolas said in a tone that did not hide his anger, "there is nothing I would rather do than leave your deceitful head here at graves of your ancestors. Let them sufficiently punish you, for I know not how. Never in my two thousand years have I met so masterful a traitor as you." He gave the rope at her feet another jerk.  
  
Liquid fire almost severed through her whole body, spiraling in her veins. Eowyn thought, I cannot cry. I cannot. She turned the beginnings of a whimper into a cold, spiteful laugh, and it eased her agony somewhat. "So you are Legolas the elf! The peaceful, gentle elf of the woods! This is what you do!"  
  
"And you are Lady Eowyn of Rohan!" Legolas shouted. "Seller of kingdoms and innocent lives! Ask yourself if you deserve my peace and gentleness. Ask yourself if you deserve anything more than what the thousands of minions of Saruman deserve."  
  
Eowyn ended her laugh in a strangled sob. No, I must not cry. Even if my heart is breaking with regret for my people. "Do you think I had a choice? What else could I have done when Wormtongue was holding a knife to my throat? I could have been like you, Legolas, proud and stubborn, willing to close my eyes forever for strength and honor? No, Legolas, I cannot leave fate in others' hands while my soul sails away to Valhalla. Give me a thousands hells, but let me do all I can to save my people!"  
  
"You knew well what Wormtongue was offering you was a lie."  
  
"Yes, but the agreement gave me time! Without my agreement, Rohan would be raped and pillaged by sunup, without even a chance to live! The alliance with Wormtongue was made to buy me a chance!"  
  
Legolas chuckled dryly, his lips playing in a humorless smile. He raised an eyebrow. "Whom was buying whom, my lady? May I ask what was in that safe Wormtongue offered you the key to? Money? Do you also demand riches for your selfless actions toward your country?"  
  
Eowyn shook her head vehemently. "No, you do not understand! I did not want to open the safe for the money, Legolas. There are weapons in the safe. Magical swords, armor, and helmets that Wormtongue had confiscated after he seized control of Rohan. But I could not let him know this. I had to make him believe I merely wanted the money."  
  
"Just as you are making me believe you right now, Lady Eowyn?" Legolas returned. "Women spin skillful webs of deceit. How do I know you are not manipulating me?"  
  
Anger flashed through her. "I will not betray my kingdom!"  
  
"And I will not put myself in the danger of betraying my whole world."  
  
Eowyn fell limply to the ground, staring at the starless sky. She felt the tears come at last, welling up and splashing down her cheeks. She gritted weakly, "Then do as you wish, elf. Leave me here to die. I do not deserve to live, anyway. I never did. All my life I've been used as a puppet for others to gain their needs. Perhaps Rohan is better off without me. If you say you can save Rohan with your powerful friends, then I have no choice but to believe you." She jerked her head up fiercely, looked at him. He was squatting at her side, his elbows resting on his thighs and fingers interlocked in front of him. "But you may never believe me, elf. You may hate me. It does not matter and I do not care. But save Rohan!"  
  
Legolas was silent. His dark eyes were staring into hers, but staring past her and focusing at nothing. For a long time he stayed like this, still and contemplating like a shadow, until at last he said, softly, "Why did you run from me when you considered me an ally?"  
  
"I was." Afraid. Afraid of Wormtongue's shadow, afraid of empty words, afraid of trust. Terrified. Eowyn snarled indignantly, "How dare you ask, elfling? I have my reasons, just as you have yours for chasing me."  
  
Legolas seemed not to hear her and sprang to his feet. "Get up."  
  
"I cannot. My legs are bound." My foot is broken as well, she thought. No, I will not show him any weakness.  
  
"Then give me your hand. Get up." Legolas stretched out his hand, and Eowyn grabbed it. She could see that he noticed the four red, bleeding crescents on her palm where her fingernails had broken the skin, and couldn't read his reaction. She carefully pulled herself to her feet, leaning her weight on her left foot.  
  
"If you are loyal to the Fellowship, then you will help me," Legolas said, turning to the deep forest in the far distance. "Gandalf the White is there in that forest, and we must alert him of Grima Wormtongue. You will travel with me to deliver the message. I am certain that by tomorrow evening, Wormtongue will have brought a small army to Rohan. He cannot risk having a civilian uprising crushing his plans. But if Gandalf brings an army of his own to Rohan, Wormtongue will surely be defeated."  
  
"Why must I go with you, then? I choose to stay here with my people."  
  
"I do not trust you inside the kingdom gates, Eowyn. Who knows what kind of pact you shall make with the enemy next?"  
  
Eowyn shuddered with suppressed fury. She looked down and saw that they were still holding hands. They simultaneously let go as if they had touched poison; Eowyn wiped her hand disgustedly on her nightgown. "At least give me the ability to walk, elfling!" she snapped, pointing down to the rope around her legs. "Do you expect me to hop with you to the forest?"  
  
Wordlessly, Legolas knelt down, loosened the rope so that there was half a meter of slack between her ankles. "Now you can walk," he said, straightening.  
  
Eowyn narrowed her eyes into slits. "You are cruel."  
  
"Perhaps I've turned cruel after seeing inside the hearts and minds of men," Legolas replied. "Come, we must go." He started ambling down the hill without a backward glance.  
  
A thousand thoughts raced through Eowyn's mind as she watched his departing figure. I can run. I can. I can't run. The clever elf knows I am injured. Injured, but still able to walk. And I must walk... for Rohan. Gritting her teeth, she set out after him.  
  
Note: Review! 


	3. Three

Note: See the disclaimer in Chapter One.  
  
Three  
  
The morning arrived and spanned over the valley in soft, misty hues. The brooding sky became washed with swathes of gold and red, and slowly lightened to a bluish slate gray. Colors saturated. The brown grass turned green, the individual blades flickering with the light breeze. The mountains in the distance were purple like watercolor, and the sun that glowed from behind them was a great ball of warm orange fire.  
  
With the morning came the end of silence. The wind picked up and blew in silky whispers through the grasses and trees. Birds, circling like autumn leaves above, echoed their cries to the earth below. Footsteps that once sounded like hollow treks in a sweeping expanse of nothingness now formed a steady rhythm through the meadow, adding their tiny crunches to the whole symphony of small sounds.  
  
Eowyn no longer felt the pain in her foot as she followed Legolas's firm, steady strides. She sensed only a blessed sensation of numbness that allowed her to forget about herself and keep up with the quick pace.  
  
The forest, Eowyn's destination, was so far away it was impossible to accurately gauge the distance; it was just a blurry dark line on the horizon. The meadow spanned to infinity to the left and right of her, and she dared not twist her head around, lest the landscape swallowed her whole. Her mind began to wander in the vastness, forming questions without answers, questions that unnerved her.  
  
How did I wake up one day to find myself with a kingdom in my hands? she asked herself in a disembodied haze. And will I die before the day is over? Will I die and suffer an eternity as wide as these meadows?  
  
Eowyn's heart pounded wildly. No, she shouted. Don't think like this. You are just tired. Tired and hurt and scared and uncertain at all that's happened.  
  
She set her attention directly ahead, trying to find something tangible, something near and real to hold on to. The elf. Legolas. He was near, he was real. She found his presence strangely comforting.  
  
Eowyn directed her whole being toward him, clinging to his image. The miles passed, melted together. She memorized his posture and the way he adjusted the quiver over his shoulders when the leather strap slipped loose. She saw how he shook his head to clear the white blond hair from his temples. She curiously scrutinized his pointed ears, wondered if he heard the same things she did.  
  
Eowyn's thoughts gradually returned to familiar territory, and she began to think disgustedly of concrete things again, of the elf's frigid, haughty attitude, and of the horridness of all males, men and elf alike, and how they destroyed or sacrificed whole kingdoms and worlds for one small moment of glory. She thought about Rohan and felt the painful regret and helplessness shattering her body into a million tiny shards.  
  
"Eowyn."  
  
She gasped at the voice.  
  
Legolas had spoken abruptly, surprisingly, stopping in his steps and breaking the momentum of the march. He turned around to meet her. The edge of his hair shone like silvery liquid diamonds where the sun was caught in the strands.  
  
Eowyn blinked rapidly as she fell out of her innermost contemplations. "Why have we stopped?"  
  
"We will rest. You are tired," Legolas answered.  
  
Eowyn studied Legolas's face dubiously. Pale, smooth, and composed. The flush of anger he carried last night seemed to have faded with the coming of the daylight. His eyes now were clear and unabashed, and she felt him searching into her soul for the answers to everything she had hidden from him. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. Looking down at the trodden grass, she retorted, "I am not tired."  
  
"Yes, Eowyn, you are."  
  
"Don't presume to think you know everything-"  
  
"I do not. However, I do know last night I mistook your injuries for only a light cut," Legolas said. "I did not know that you had sprained your ankle until I heard you limping a moment ago. You hid your wound from me well." A suspended second passed, in which he waved to an area of dried grass beside him. "And now you must rest. It will slow us down if you continue walking like this."  
  
Eowyn trudged to the patch of grass and sat heavily upon it, collapsing in a way she berated herself for. She saw her body stretched out before her, scored with countless scratches and streaked in grime. The hem of her nightgown was in ribbons. Peeking out from under it was her right ankle, swollen and bloody and still bound in rope. She wiggled it from side to side and felt the eerie sensation of numbness.  
  
"Stop," Legolas commanded, moving to kneel beside her. He trapped her ankle in cool, slender hands. "Do not do that. You are only agitating the swelling. Stay still while I feel what's wrong."  
  
Eowyn did not reply to him for there were no words to say. She simply watched him test his fingers over the ugly bruise, and repeated to herself that he had been the one to cause it. But he had been doing what was right. He had been chasing after a traitor, she thought. Me. "Legolas."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If you were in my position last night, would you have made the same deal I did?" she asked. "If there was a choice between life and death, and death meant that your kingdom would likely perish with you, would you have agreed to Wormtongue's demands and chosen life? Would you have sided with the enemy, if for a day, to try to defeat him in the future?"  
  
"There were risks in what you did," Legolas said without missing a beat. His fingers had moved to the rope, and were now swiftly untying the knots. "Risks too horrendous for me to have taken. I would not make a hidden plan only to see it fail. People live on the mere words of leaders, Lady Eowyn. Or they can die on them."  
  
"But what if you had no choice?"  
  
Legolas looked up. "I would fight until I had a choice. There is always a choice if you do not stop searching and fighting for one."  
  
"I see. Then I must have been too lazy and weak to find mine." And a low, sad laugh bubbled out of the depths of Eowyn's throat and surprised even the owner with the grief it carried. "Ah, men. You live your lives in glory and honor and nothing will stand in the way of your being right. You have the choice. You will always have the choice. Of who to fight, who to ally. Who to love. And when you leave us with no choice to choose from, you frown at us and ask why we couldn't have been like you and fought against you."  
  
Wetness tickled as it slid down her cheeks, and Eowyn was distantly amused at how strangely devoid of emotion she was feeling inside her. "And our thoughts, our decisions, all made out of love, are all so foolish and wrong because we've been left with nothing to choose from. Yes, we could fight for our choices. Then what would you have left? Nothing? Everything?"  
  
"Eowyn, the decision you have made is over," Legolas said evenly, tossing the untied rope behind him.  
  
"The decision I made is stupid! You know so and you made it apparently clear to me last night by trying to kill me for it!"  
  
"You are dwelling on the past! The past will not stop Wormtongue from selling your kingdom to Saruman on a golden plate. There is nothing to think about but the future."  
  
The future, Eowyn echoed. The word swelled in her mind and made its meaning known. Now, all at once, the implications of her actions flooded her, and it was too much. Her body was wracked in violent shivers as she began to sob uncontrollably. "What have I done, Legolas? What have I done?" she repeated, rasping hoarsely. "What had I been thinking? What have I done? What had I been forced to do? Oh, Rohan! What have I done?"  
  
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	4. Four

Note: See the disclaimer in the first chapter.  
  
Four  
  
He watched the maiden cry. Her thin frame lying like a battered reed upon the ground, shuddering with the wind. Her hair spread out in a halo. He yearned to say something to her, powerful words that he wanted to convey his feelings with, but no words seemed to get past his parched lips without falling ridiculously apart. And so he closed his mouth and stopped trying.  
  
He moved to her on his knees. He tapped her gingerly on the bare shoulder, a gesture to let her know that he was there. He was feeling faint and surreal and very unsure of himself, but whatever precious confidence he had left he wanted to give to her and make her strong again. Strong, like she had always been.  
  
She extended a trembling hand and it somehow met with his own, and he let himself enclose his fingers around her and pull her to him. She fell into his arms in a mass of clumsy limbs, wild hair, and rebellious tears. She desperately clutched to the front of his tunic in the same way she had been clutching at the grass, and her face was awkwardly turned away from his.  
  
He gathered her fully to him, moving her arms and wrapping them around his waist. He pressed her head gently to his chest, letting her tears soak into the fabric. And then, after a moment's hesitation, he softly buried his face into her hair and kissed the golden locks.  
  
They settled into an embrace that neither wanted to break from, for fear of seeing the new fire in the other's eyes.  
  
Note: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Okay, review. 


	5. Five

Note: You may see the disclaimer on the first chapter.  
  
Five  
  
Legolas reached the edge of the forest just as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. He could not help the sincere smile from spreading across his face as Eowyn stepped beside him. "We are right on time, Lady Eowyn."  
  
"Yes," she responded in a weary voice that betrayed her relief and fatigue. "We are here."  
  
Legolas walked into the trees and beckoned for her to follow. He saw that she was falling behind, faltering slightly as she tried to make her way through the foliage, but he bit his bottom lip and refrained to offer help. She would refuse, he knew. Refuse and lash out violently for having him underestimate her. He said, "We will search for Master Gandalf, you and I. But it is my guess Gandalf will find us first. Do you want to wait until-"  
  
"Of course not, Legolas!" Eowyn said, glaring at him and pushing her way ahead of him with a new burst of energy. "I will not sit around and waste my precious time waiting. Come on! Hurry."  
  
Legolas thought, Just as I had expected. He jogged to her side.  
  
The forest turned denser and darker as they traveled closer to the interior. The trees became entangled in vines and creepers and space was impossible to find; Legolas took out his dagger and cleared a tiny path to squeeze through. He gripped Eowyn's hand tightly so they would not become separated in the labyrinth.  
  
He did not talk to her except for saying the necessary words. "Watch out for that vine." "Step this way." He thought about their embrace in the meadows earlier that day, and wondered, What did it all mean? He had been merely trying to comfort her and prevent her from going into hysterics, but somehow, after she had composed herself and dried her reddened eyes, all he felt was an urge to bring her back into his arms.  
  
Legolas scoffed. Madness. Eowyn was a human woman. A mortal. Someone whose kingdom he needed to help. And after he did, their lives would branch away from each other forever like streams diverging from a river. And why wouldn't it? She was nothing to him. Nothing. She had tried to end his life, and he had wanted to do the same in return.  
  
And yet he remembered the infinite relief he felt in his heart when she had told him her alliance with Wormtongue was simply a lie. Relief, and a dash of anger at himself for even believing for a second she had been sincere with her offer.  
  
But it had been his damn pride that kept him going, kept him from forming the words of apology he had tried so hard to say. It was the pride of men that built great things, and it was the pride of men that destroyed them all. And it was the pride inside of him that rejected, and it was for this that he hated himself most.  
  
But what if you stayed with this woman for the rest of your life? Legolas thought. The question had come out of nowhere, and it shocked him with its sincerity. He wanted to shove it away to a deep recess of his mind and never encounter it again, but it nagged at him until he thought bitterly, If I stay with her, nothing will be changed. She is mortal. She will die within a century, and I will continue living for hundreds of centuries. And in the end, it will be as if we had never met. An actual, physical pain seized his heart and he stumbled forward, gasping.  
  
"Legolas!" It was Eowyn. "What is the matter?"  
  
"It's nothing. Be careful." He could not look at her.  
  
"Did you hear it too, then?" Eowyn stopped walking and cocked her head to the darkening sky. "I thought it was my imagination, but perhaps..."  
  
"Hear what? I didn't hear anything."  
  
"That... strange cry. Oh, never mind. We are in a forest and there are bound to be animals-"  
  
A hollow shriek that came from far above reverberated down to the trees and made the leaves shudder with a hot wind. There was a deep sound like that of undulating silk flags, and suddenly, what little sunlight that remained was obscured by a span of something beige and flat and huge.  
  
It was a wing.  
  
Legolas instinctively grabbed his bow and strung it with an arrow.  
  
The eagle that possessed the wing gave several mighty flaps, and descended down to the forest, its golden talons each grasping the tops of three or four trees as it landed. Timber cracked mercilessly and leaves flew into the air in a tumultuous hurricane. Eowyn screamed something in alarm, but the massive bird's unearthly shrieking drowned out her words.  
  
Legolas aimed his arrow at one of the eagle's fierce yellow eyes and let it fly. But in the split second before he had released the bowstring, Eowyn had thrown herself onto him, knocking him off balance. The arrow wobbled crookedly and harmlessly into a distant ravine.  
  
Legolas wheeled to Eowyn in disbelief. "What do you think you're-"  
  
"Stop! Look!" Eowyn commanded, pointing ahead.  
  
Legolas traced her finger to a white, solitary figure sitting on top of the eagle's back. Though the man appeared tiny compared to the great beast he was riding, Legolas could immediately recognize him. "Gandalf!" he shouted, nearly dropping his bow in surprise. He gaped as the wizened old wizard let out a kindly, rumbling laugh.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood," Gandalf said in a voice that seemed to fill the whole forest with its power. "I do believe you are frightened."  
  
Note: And the author runs away to study for her finals. High school can be such a bitch. Reviews and complaints about anything can reach me if you review! 


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